


Have to go

by VioletWingfield



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a sort of happy ending, Big Brothers, Brothers, Caring Dean Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Little Brothers, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 11:30:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletWingfield/pseuds/VioletWingfield
Summary: Takes place between ‘Ouroboros’ and  ‘Peace of Mind.’ If you haven’t watched s14 yet, don’t read it, please. Just a brotherly moment I thought of.





	Have to go

Big fat raindrops are finding their way to the concrete. If you listen, like really listen to the sound, you’ll know. The drops are integrated and have one pulse in them. With that beating pulse, they are finding their way.

Problem is when will I find my way?

The bigger problem is where am I supposed to go?

My eyes can’t keep up with them, it’s heavy and I know how it feels. But still, it hurts. The burning eyes hurt…

A lonely teardrop just has made its way to the pillow right with the beating of the raindrops. They are synchronizing. And I’m part of the symphony.

But where am I supposed to go?

* * *

 

My fever-fretted brain cannot grasp in this curtains-drawn motel room if it’s night or day. But the raindrops prevail…

In the middle of nothing and everything in my brain, I hear a faint sound of a voice. I focus really hard on it. A cold calloused hand on my forehead. I suppose everything seems cold on my burning skin. But the voice with it, the concerned sound is trying to reach me. I know I have to go there. I try to leave this place that my brain is projecting over and over like a broken record. Like I get it, man! My life is a series of nightmares, nothing else. So what do you want me to do? I ask myself. Wow! Really not stopping at the full-blown psychotic breakdown drama, are we?

I ask myself once again.  

What do you want me to do? I ask again.

Stay here. So what it’s all dark and sometimes you want to rip your heart out, just to not feel it even when you’re barely conscious. It’s predictable at least. Do you know what’s out there? No, you don’t. I do. More nightmares. But they will be real. It’s comfy here. Out there? Nothing good for you.

I contradict myself. It’s like arguing with a really stubborn ass. Dean says that all the time about me.

**_Dean! Dean! ** _Dean!_**_ **

I have Dean out there. I have to go there.

But where am I supposed to go?

* * *

 

Okay, where was I again? Yeah, have to leave, have to go, can’t be stuck inside my head!

God! What’s on my eyelids? Stones? Mountains? Maybe I’m in the car. No, too quiet here.

Nope! Not moving my head! Bad idea! Uhh!

“Sammy! Sammy, you wake?”

I groaned, “noooo.” but I tried to open my eyes anyway and Dean’s face came to vision. It was hovering over me and I startled, moved too quickly.

Bad idea again!

“Uhhhh!” An unvolunteered teardrop made its way again… God! Not again.

“Hey, hey, easy there!” Dean pulled me by my shoulders and I was sitting against the wall on my motel-bed in no time.

A glass full of water and two Tylenol came under my nose and I said, “Dude!” But, it came out as a whine instead of a growl.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean spoke and handed the pills, “found you passed out on the floor! Fever’s 103.5.”

I gulped down the water. What is it? Desert in my throat? Man! This sucks!

“Hello!”

I startled again and looked up at a gawking Dean, “Ummm, what?”

He threw his hands in the air!

He’s looking at me, lips into a thin line, jaw clenched and big eyes.

Man those are some big eyes. Golf balls!

“Golf balls,” my broken voice came before I could stop.

“What?” That eyes again!

I’m not making any sense to him.

“You’re not making any sense to me!”

_Bingo!_

“I’m fine!”

“Yeah. And I’m Madonna!”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. That brought a smirk to his face, always does. Sadly, he’s tensed most of the times because of me. Everything is tied to me. It sucks to be me, isn’t it? More sucks if you are around me. 

“No, it doesn’t.”

Did I say that out loud?

“Yeah, you did. and you’re still doing.”

A hand came to my head, removed the hairs on my face.

“It’s gonna be okay, Sammy. You rest. I’m here.”

Why is my brain is singing Africa? Good song though…” _I seek to cure what’s deep inside. Frightened of this thing that I have become…”_ I hummed quietly…

 _“_ You weren’t going to,” I said without opening my eyes.

“I wasn’t going to what?” Dean was perplexed.

“Be here.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry Sammy.” A cool washcloth came to rest on my forehead along with the hand of my big brother. God! He still makes me feel like a five-year-old. I groaned.

“Not your fault…” I finally said, “Just don’t ever tell me to apologize for trying to save you.”

“Then stop blaming yourself for the deaths of other hunters,” he said. I can hear he’s grinding his teeth.

“Michael really screwed us over, huh?” A dry laugh came from me.

And silence from the other end.

After a while, I opened my eyes to look over and what I saw I don’t want to see ever but I have and still, I don’t get used to it. 

A beaten Dean Winchester.

God! I so wished you never had to go through that. I’m so sorry.

I was thinking those things but I couldn’t say it to the bowed head.

“Michael used to taunt me when he’ll kill those monsters, he’ll give me a peek behind the curtains.” A broken chuckle cut through the silence, “He wanted to show me how I’m going to enjoy all that blood on my hand and at my core, I am a murderer, I destroy everything.” 

I tried to speak up but he beat me to it. 

“And I believe him. Because the opposite is so hard to believe that the people I care about are suffering and I still can’t do a damn thing about it…”

I was speechless. For the life of me, nothing came to me to reassure him. I couldn’t say it’s okay because it’s not and it never will be. He may not be physically tortured by Michael but being used like that and losing control- it’s a wound that never really heals. So, I did the only thing I thought I could at that time.

I took his hand and draped it over my head.

He looked up startled. I kept my hand over his, gave a light squeeze and he understood as his brows came back to their original place. I removed my hand and said, “Massage it well, Jerk.”

He barked out a laugh and this time it was honest, “You bet your ass I will,” and pulled my long hair mildly. I howled in mock-pain. He continued to laugh.

I laughed a little too. 

“Not your fault. You said it yourself once, angels are dicks. You could imagine how archangels can be,” I said.

He was quiet for a second, my focus was on his face which was still smiling “Yeah. It’s not your fault either…and thanks.”

“For what?” 

“For not letting me die.”

What do you think I would have ended up if I had let you die? I thought to myself and said, “Don’t mention it.”

I closed my eyes. My head feels a little better. I should rest, I’m home.

 

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> It may seem out of character. I don't know for sure. Title is not that great. Story is not that ingenious. You tell me if it's worth a read or not. I tried... Thank you for reading (if you do).


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